Father Knows Best
by oneiromancer242
Summary: AU from reader prompts. The twins are eleven, Erik is estranged from their mother but allowed to see them. Peter's powers begin to show, and against his mother's resistance, Erik tries to help him through it.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N : I'm absolutely not tired of AUs, however, I must say I *loathed* writing the Magda in this one. But promts is prompts, and they take you where they take you…**

 **1.** **Prompt! What would have happened if Erik had found Peter when he was littler? Like when his powers were first showing? Would Peter have "saved" Erik or would Erik drag Peter into his own anger? – Guest**

 **2.** **You might be tired of AUs, but what about the opposite? What if Peter had been taken to the school earlier and not abandoned? Or what if he'd found Erik earlier instead of losing 10 years? – Petra**

 _I will not yell. I will be totally calm. I will NOT murder my children…_ Magda thought, yet again pulling Lorna away from her handbag where the toddler was rifling though, looking for shiny things to stick in her mouth. She shouted for her daughter again, wondered how Wanda was always late for everything. The traffic was going to be awful if they didn't leave soon, and somehow Wanda had a knack for losing things at the last moment. At least this morning she'd been able to find a full pair of shoes, instead of terrorising her brother into telling her where he'd hidden the others.

Finally, Wanda came galloping down the stairs, hair tied back, swinging her kit bag over her shoulder. Every time her mother looked at her she seemed to get taller, long coltish legs and rounded hips developing already, though she'd only just turned eleven.

"I'm here! Sorry Mom, I couldn't find my towel"

"Peter!" Magda yelled, "Come on, you're going to be late for track again!"

"I thought he got kicked off the track team?" Wanda asked

"Not yet. But if he doesn't stop showing everyone up he's heading for it" she sighed angrily, yelled again, "Come ON Peter! Why are you only fast whenever you don't have to be somewhere!?"

She jumped out of her skin as her son emerged from the living room behind her, having been convinced he was down in his room.

"Can I stay home today, Mom?" he asked, "I don't feel so hot"

She frowned and took a look at him, laid a hand over his forehead. He felt cold and clammy, looked too pale. Standing propped against the doorframe with his hands pressed against his belly.

"You don't look too hot either honey," she said concerned, "Feeling sick again?"

He nodded, winced at a sudden cramp.

"I'm taking you to a doctor on Monday, no complaining. You've been sick for a week now. Take some more Tylenol and lie down, I'll…" she hesitated, made a face as if the words tasted bad, "I'll call your father to come look after you"

She dumped her five-year-old daughter into her sister's arms, retreated to the kitchen to make the call. It wasn't that she hated their father – far from it, she wasn't a hateful person – just that she didn't approve of a lot of his business. She was trying to raise her children right, give them stability, and having their Dad all over the world half the time wasn't helping that. Though they could hardly be in a room together without bickering, she knew how important it was for him to see his kids – especially since Wanda had blown up the toaster with a ball of red light that had made her scream in panic. She'd got a hold of herself a little now, but there were still those occasional accidents, which Magda found difficult to cope with but which Erik seemed to take in his stride. Arrangements made, she shepherded Lorna and Wanda into the car and got moving at last.

It was hard not to be concerned about every little thing, when you had three unruly children to raise with only the assistance of a mostly-absent and emotionally distant man who frequently picked up and left town for months on end. She'd handled the usual childhood ailments with grace under pressure, smothered the twins in calamine lotion when they'd got chicken pox, kept them off school and made chicken soup when they had sniffling colds, but she couldn't help feeling nonetheless that something more serious was wrong with her son. He must be feeling pretty rotten to skip track – having been dropped from the basketball team ('he's just not a team player, Ms Maximoff') the baseball team ('he's making the other kids feel bad, Ms Maximoff') and the football squad ('he's fast alright, but the others are scared to tackle him in case he breaks, Ms Maximoff') track was all he had left. He'd always been so energetic, to see him getting worn out like this was just not right. She hoped Erik wouldn't be his usual gruff self with him today, have a little sympathy and patience now and again. Tried to concentrate on the road and the two handfuls she had with her, and not worry about him.

Erik let himself in, as always through the back door, keeping quiet by habit. He could smell Magda's perfume in the house, felt as always like an intruder. Short-notice visits like this were very rare, since Magda had thrown him out for good four years ago saying that she could no longer stand two babies in the house, sent him packing with his tail between his legs. He'd stewed on it for almost six months, briefly distracted by a trip to Venice with Raven to find and recruit a young Mutant there, returning with the resolution that even if he couldn't get along with their mother he would see his children or be damned. Who did she think she was anyway? Some human, trying to push him around…. At least Wanda had inherited something worthwhile from him, even if he couldn't quite put his finger on the nature of her gifts. She'd decided just to call it 'magic' and he'd allowed it, having no better answer. Her brother on the other hand, well he was just plain odd.

He switched the kettle on to make himself some tea, called his son's name, answered by a weary little voice from the living room and going through to find him huddled under several thick blankets on the sofa, watching TV with the sound turned right down. It made Erik sweat just to look at him, cuddled up like that when it was blazing hot outside.

"If you have a fever, Peter, you shouldn't overheat like that – it won't help"

"M'not feverish," he muttered, "just really cold"

He certainly looked it, shivering under the blankets and ever so slightly blue around the lips. Well, that was the last thing Erik needed – playing nursemaid to his son when he had calls to make and things to arrange. He would just have to do it from here, and hope nobody traced Magda's number.

"What's the matter anyway? Are you still not sleeping?"

Peter shook his head glumly, slowly so as not to make himself dizzy again. Truth be told he felt a lot worse than tired, but he wasn't about to let his Dad know that. He already got the impression that he loved Wanda more, with the cool little tricks she could do and that red stuff she could seemingly pull out of thin air. Peter guessed there probably hadn't been enough X-gene to go between the two of them. She was special - he was just weird. And sick, apparently.

"Well, I have work to do. I'll be in the kitchen, do you want anything before I get settled? Are you hungry?"

"Yes, and no"

"You're very unhelpful you know" Erik sighed.

"Yes, I'm hungry. No, I don't want anything, I ate a whole box of cereal before you got here and I'm gonna throw up if I eat another thing"

Erik hesitated a moment, wondered if that was normal for pre-teen boys, then left him to it. Whilst he had little patience for sick children, he did find Peter's peculiarities a little worrying at times, and though he couldn't bear him whining he still didn't particularly want him to suffer. He tried to dismiss the thought, but kept it at the back of his mind whilst he went about his work, interrupted by the return of his daughters and former lover and tutting in irritation. He soon cheered up when Wanda had bounded over to give him a hug though. She smelled of chlorine and some sort of strawberry-scented stuff. Lorna broke free of her mother and ran over to crawl up into his lap.

"How is he?" Magda demanded, set her bag down, kept her distance.

"Hello, Erik, it's nice to see you. How are you today?" he said sarcastically, "I'm well thank you Magda, and why yes I'd love a cup of coffee"

"It's not nice to see you. Get your own damn coffee. How is our son?"

"I'm fine, Mom" Peter had shuffled into the kitchen still wrapped in a blanket, took a seat at the table, "Well, everything hurts and I feel sick and I'm cold and I'm dizzy and I wish I could sleep, but apart from that I'm fine"

"You'd better have been looking after him, Erik, not ignoring him"

"He's been great" he offered his father a little smile, "Really"

"Oh I'm sure he has. After all caring kindness is one of your defining characteristics, isn't it Erik?" she spat, "You can go now, incidentally. I'm sure you've more important things to do than see your family"

She had moved to slip her hands onto her son's shoulders possessively, feeling him shiver under her fingers. She could feel the little points of his shoulders far too well under the blanket, worrying her all over again, her tone much gentler as she addressed him.

"Honey you really should get yourself to bed, you look awful"

"Your mother's right. Go to bed" Erik said firmly, "And Wanda, take Lorna for a little while. I need to speak to your Mom"

"Like I'll sleep anyway," Peter said quietly, picking himself up with a visible effort, shuffling back out and down the stairs to his room. Wanda obeyed, scooped Lorna up in her arms, left the two of them alone. Magda heaved a long-suffering sigh and sat down at the table

"What?" she asked, rancour colouring her words. Erik looked at her calmly, saw th worry and tiredness on her face.

"How long has Peter been ill?" he asked

"A week, he's been out of school. I'm taking him to a doctor on Monday"

"Really though, Magda, how long has it been?"

"Are you accusing me of not being able to take care of my son?" she demanded bitterly, "I don't know if you've noticed but he's almost a teenager now, he'll be fine, he's just growing"

Erik rubbed a hand over his eyes, bit down hard on the urge to yell. The woman was just infuriating sometimes, he wondered how he'd stood her so long. Finally looked up at her and said

"He's too thin, and it's not normal for a boy to get so tired. There's something else going on here, and you know it. He's *not* a normal almost-teenager"

"So what do you want me to do?" Magda laughed humourlessly, "He eats us out of house and home, and he's not gained an ounce. I give him painkillers for the growing pains, he can't sleep, I tried giving him sleeping pills. Nothing does anything, Erik. What more can I do apart from pray that he grows out of it?"

"I know a doctor who might know better what to do" he said, tried to be calm, keep his tone even, "If you'll let me take him to him, perhaps we can get some answers"

"Peter's normal," she insisted, "He doesn't need the kind of doctors *you* know* "

"Wanda is normal too. A perfectly normal Mutant"

The look on Magda's face lashed him with its ferocious fury, but she kept her voice low as she said

"He hasn't inherited your defective genes, Erik. He's just an ordinary boy who needs some extra years to fill out. How *dare* you suggest that he's…"

"Gifted?" Erik suggested, fixed her with a malevolent look, "Superior to you? A step above you on the evolutionary ladder?"

Magda looked hard at him for a moment, then got to her feet and pushed her chair in very carefully. Said in the quietest most seethingly furious voice Erik had ever heard

"Get out of our house"

He obeyed. Gathered his papers in silence. Left without a word to her or to their children.

Back at home, he had been half-dozing over a book at half past midnight when a knock at the front door had startled him. Tucked a gun into the back of his belt, pulled back the door on its chain and stayed well back, surprised to hear a faint, shaky voice from outside ask

"Do you really know a doctor who could help?"

He opened the door fully, and brought his son inside shaking with cold and exhaustion.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N : I'll warn you now, this could get rather grim...**

Stepping lightly downstairs, silent in fluffy slippers, Wanda couldn't help but think that things were far too silent down there. No radio playing, no chatter, not even Lorna's barely-intelligible vocalisations. Wrapping her robe around her, she padded into the kitchen, sat down at the table. Her mother looked exhausted, dark puffy circles under her eyes, raising another spoonful of soggy cornflakes to Lorna's mouth. The kid looked shell-shocked, opened her mouth mechanically and took the dripping spoonful without protest. That wasn't right, Wanda thought. For one thing, Lorna could feed herself with little difficulty now, and for another she was infamously tantrum-prone and peevish in the mornings, not at all given to sitting quietly and letting Magda shovel food into her mouth.

"Is Peter sleeping?" the girl asked cautiously. Poured some juice. Her mother didn't turn, but shoved a note across the table in her direction. She could tell by the atrocious handwriting and spelling that her brother had written it – he might be bright, but he didn't pay a whole lot of attention in school and consequently he wrote like a little kid.

 _"_ _With Dad"_ she read, " _Dont worrey. Gowing to the docters"_

She didn't say anything for a few minutes. Tried to pick up her glass but found her hands too shaky. Peter had never been away from the house for more than a couple of hours before, and to suddenly not know where he was or if he was safe made her feel like the foundations of her world were being violently shaken. She couldn't imagine being parted from him, not squabbling on the way to school tomorrow morning, not sitting beside him in class. Being referred to by name by their teachers, instead of just 'the twins'. Wanda felt as though part of her had been cut out – something important and bloody.

"When's he coming home?" she asked. Her mother turned on her with a fury

"The hell should I know, Wanda?!" she yelled, a high pitch of fear in her voice, underscoring the anger like discordant strings, "he took off some time last night, your father's probably dragging him to some witch-doctor by now, god knows if he even made it there alive!"

"Mom…" Wanda wasn't a tearful person, but felt her eyes growing hot and filling up, "Don't say that!"

At last Magda looked at her. Her eyes were so raw and bloodshot that Wanda worried they were hurt somehow, looking almost on the verge of bleeding. Lorna stared at them both. She looked as if she would start squalling if she were not frightened into shocked silence. Under her terror, Wanda could see a cold, accusatory anger.

"Go to your room," she said, voice flat, "Do your homework, call boys, listen to that trashy music, do what you like – just don't let me set eyes on you again today"

Wanda stared at her for a moment, heart pounding, feeling like her eyes would overflow. Then she stood, sniffed, walked away from the table and back up the stairs to her room. Behind her, she could hear her baby sister starting to scream, their mother shushing her tenderly.

Erik had nothing to do but wait.

The Mansion was virtually empty, most of the residents being away on business of one sort of another, leaving only Sean Cassidy and Hank McCoy to run things, which meant Hank was doing everything. Sean was a good kid, his heart was in the right place, but he couldn't organise his way out of a wet paper bag. He had been grateful to find the doctor at home, happy to hand his son over to him, but now all could do was wander the halls and grounds waiting for Hank to finish his examination. He was sure Peter would have been a lot more surprised to find himself handed into the care of a seven-foot tall blue apelike creature, if he hadn't been half-conscious with exhaustion by the time they had made the long drive to Westchester. He'd kept half an eye on the boy, hardly able to hold his head up, smothered under a couple of thick rugs and still shivering, watching him grow more grey and shattered-looking as the hours passed by, wondered how long Magda had kept it from him that his son was so sick. He hadn't spent much time with Peter for months, away on business and unable to fit in a proper visit around the boy's school commitments. Looking at him now it was painfully obvious that any baby-fat he'd had had fallen off him, and he'd never been a chubby child to begin with. He didn't look like he'd had a good night's sleep in months, shaky and catastrophically weary but somehow still unable to fully doze off. Erik had quickly realised that the pain he'd complained of was not just a little cramp, but debilitating weakness and agony that came from deep in his bones and radiated out to fill every part of him, and was deeply sorry for having dismissed it once he had realised the extent of his suffering.

At last, Hank had emerged, Erik immediately rushing to him and beginning a flood of questions which the furry Mutant had silenced with a hand, ushering him over to a chair and sitting down with him.

"Where is my son?" he asked

"Sleeping – I've anaesthetised him. He hasn't slept in ten days, he'll start hallucinating soon if he doesn't rest. Why didn't you bring him sooner, Erik? He's deathly ill, he could have died without intervention"

Erik shook his head. Felt responsible and furious and helpless

"I didn't know," he said, "His mother and I… well…." Hank gave him a small, understanding sort of smile. Squeezed his shoulder. "Is he….?"

"He has an active X-gene, yes. He's a Mutant"

A sense of unexpected relief flushed through Erik, and he even managed to return Hank's smile a very little. Felt a tiny glimmer of hope kindle at the news.

"Can you treat him?"

"I don't know," Hank said sincerely, "As far as I can see, his body is attempting to reform itself, whatever mutation he settles with is taking a very long time to come on. His metabolic rate is through the roof, he's not able to get enough calories to meet his needs – which is why he's lost so much weight and feels so tired all the time. At the same time, his mind is running at an incredible speed – his perception and reflexes are like nothing I've ever seen before despite the fact he's absolutely worn out. And… well…."

"Well?" Erik prompted, knotting his hands in concern, "Well what?"

"There's no way of putting this gently. His bones are crumbling, whether that's due to an emerging mutation or malnutrition I can't say, but that's why he's in so much pain. He's falling to pieces Erik. He must be very brave to put up with all that"

Erik stared at his knotted fingers. Brave was not a word he would ever have used to describe his son – needy, clingy, immature, dense, but never brave. For a while he simply let it sink in, the pain that he had been concealing from everyone, and how he had underestimated him, before finally he had said

"What can you do?"

Hank licked his lips, took off his glasses and began to methodically polish them – it was a habit Erik knew well, and knew that it meant he was stalling for thinking time. Eventually, he slipped them back on, having difficulty meeting Erik's steely gaze as he replied

"I'm sure you know there's only one reason mutations arise, at the end of the day" he said, tried to keep his voice soothing, "Need. If we need it, we can be pushed to it. The early hominids evolved with darkly-pigmented skin because they needed the protection of melanin under the equatorial sun. Arctic mammals evolved thick layers of body fat to keep them warm. If we exert a pressure, mutations arise"

"Hank, my son is not a polar bear. I would very much appreciate you getting to your bloody point"

"Most of the Mutants I've seen have found out about their powers in times of extreme stress… you, in fact, if I remember rightly…."

He trailed off, saw the look of pain cross Erik's face. Was glad that he did not have Charles' gift at that point – he could not have borne the horrors that had brought Erik's metal-manipulation to the fore.

"My only idea is that given enough stress, we might bring his mutation on faster. The problem being, he's so physically weak that the amount of stress it would take –"

"Might kill him" Erik interrupted. Hank nodded.

"I'm so sorry, Erik. I don't have any other answers for you. I can stabilise his condition and make him comfortable, but unless he fully mutates soon, he has a good few years of feeling like this ahead of him. And he might not survive it. He's already very run-down, seriously underweight and desperately exhausted, I simply can't say how much more of that he can take."

For the longest time, Erik stared at his white knuckles, at the floorboards, at nothing in particular. Sat as still as stone, until he had finally said in a quiet, hoarse voice.

"What kind of stress would do it?"


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N : Note that a 'crossover' and a 'shared universe' are different things, and that I share my name with a certain villainous doctor and thus can use the below concept because I say so. So nyaaaaah.**

Erik couldn't watch. He had seen horrors that he could never have given voice to, seen thousands dead and watched their families dig the graves that would one day hold them too. Seen the worst excesses of humanity's inhumanity, and yet he could not watch this simple procedure.

Hank had insisted Peter would have to stay conscious for the process to be fully effective. After finally coming round from the anaesthetic, he had actually looked a little less on the verge of death, a very slight bit of colour in his face and just a little more vitality in him – more so after Hank had insisted he eat all he wanted and rest for the remainder of the day before he began treatment. During the process, he would be hooked up to a drip that would supply him with five times the calories a human body needed, which Hank hoped would be enough despite the stress he would be undergoing. In the meantime though, he had been more than happy to sit up in bed and stuff down an incredible amount of pizza. Admitting to Hank that he was always so hungry that even when he'd eaten until his stomach hurt he still felt ravenous. The doctor had taken that as just more confirmation that he needed to have his mutation brought on quickly, if nothing else so that he wouldn't be reliant on a drip to supply his needs. He'd let Peter sleep through the afternoon and night, for once needing no help to doze off naturally, possibly still a little sedated from the hefty whack of Brevital Hank had given him the day before. Erik had stayed beside him. Prayed for the first time in who knew how long. Hoped his sister was alright, and that before too long he would be able to return Peter to her in a far better state than he had been when he left.

Erik had his objections when Hank had carried in the large biohazard-taped box he had taken delivery of, especially when the doctor had insisted that they both wear a sealed supply of air whilst he unpacked it, slipping on two pairs of nitrile gloves and a pair of thick latex before he had even cut the tape.

"So you're too concerned to even unpack that stuff without protection, and you want to inject my son with it?"

He had asked, standing at a respectable distance whilst Hank gingerly eased three vials of glowing yellow liquid out of the protective packaging. Setting them down as if they may explode, Hank turned to him and replied

"Of course not! This is an aerosol form. I'm going to get him to breathe it in. Oh… that wasn't what you were getting at, was it?"

"Not exactly." He said. Folded his arms, looked as imposing as he could whilst wearing a breathing apparatus, "What is it, where did you get it, and is it safe?"

"Do you want the absolute truth?" Hank asked, leaned against a lab bench and gave Erik a searching look, "Given that I'm going to be administering it to Peter as soon as he wakes up?"

"Are you going to kill my son, Doctor McCoy?"

"Hopefully not is the best I can say. I told you – he needs to be under extreme stress to bring his mutation on. Now, with him in such a fragile physical condition, I thought the best way to do that would be to put him under as much psychological duress as possible. This –" he indicated the three vials, which seemed to pulse with an eerie glow in the test-tube rack beside him, "is an experimental formula. I have a friend who works for Wayne Enterprises, she…. Obtained it for me"

"Stole it"

"Stole it for me." Hank admitted, "It's phobic toxin"

Erik stared at him for a long time. No need to try to look intimidating, his disgust radiated out of every pore

"I saw the results of that stuff once. Twenty-eight people killed themselves or each other, another fifteen ended up in a psychiatric unit and are never expected to recover. And you want to give it to my son?"

"A controlled dose, I promise you. Yes, there is the potential to weaponise it, but if I make sure I supply only as much as his mind can take, then it should stress him enough without doing any lasting damage"

"How much is just enough?"

"Ahhh… well…." Hank shuffled his huge, hairy feet uncomfortably, "I'm…. working on that"

Wanda didn't leave a note, misspelled or otherwise. She climbed out of her bedroom window, lowering herself down and getting scratched to pieces in a bush that her father had planted below the window. Blackberries. She remembered gathering them with him when she had been a small girl, wiped the blood from her scratched ankles and imagined that it was the rich purple juice of the berries. Remembered how her hands were stained for days afterward despite her scrubbing, thought, _Ah! There's a spot!,_ and could not remember where the words had come from.

She had called what she could do magic. Thought of herself as a witch, a wise woman, someone who could bend the Universe to her will if she so chose. Limping down the street at four in the morning, she didn't feel wise or powerful. She felt alone, and frightened, and had the sensation of half herself being numb and distant as though she had laid on her foot and sent it to sleep. Pins and needles of the mind jabbed at her. She had no idea where she was going, only knew that if she trusted herself then she would find her missing self at the end of her journey. She thought of her mother waking and finding her missing and did not cry, thought of Lorna wailing for her big sister to swing her and play with her and did not cry. Thought of her brother and how sick and exhausted he had looked and wedged herself between two dumpsters and wept until she had vomited yellow bile onto the concrete.

She followed whatever force guided her to the bus station. Boarded a bus to Westchester with all the money she had and sat in the scratchy seat and smelled alcohol and aftershave and sweat and somehow knew, in that tingling half of herself that was cut away, that she was heading in the right direction. The sun was bright by the time she had disembarked at the Salem Centre. She stretched the cramp from her legs. Sat down for a while. An old woman in a headscarf with a hooked nose and a missing left eye sat with her, and shared her bottle of water with her, speaking no English but somehow understanding that she needed the help, then passed on.

Wanda walked to Greymalkin Lane, and paused at the gates marked 1407. She walked in without further hesitation, seeking the part of herself that had been lost.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N : I'm going to tell you right now. No holds barred, no punches pulled. If you're feeling in any way delicate just don't read this. It's not pretty, and you've been warned.**

Hank pulled the fume hood down, leaned back despite all his protective equipment. Carefully decanted a few drops of the yellow fluid into a flask. Reached with a shaky, thoroughly gloved hand to screw the top back on, and very gently sloshed the contents, screwing his face up as he did.

"You're not exactly inspiring confidence" Erik told him, "In fact, I've half a mind to forbid this"

"Do you want Peter to suffer?" Hank replied, gently raising the fume hood and retrieving the flash of liquid oxygen, holding it more comfortably now that it was sealed, "You have a choice, Erik, don't feel that you haven't. He can suffer terribly now for perhaps 24 hours, or he can suffer terribly for the next few years."

"Or he could die"

"He could die either way" the doctor said firmly, "Believe it or not, this is his best chance"

Erik said nothing. Went to his son's side and stroked his hair back from his forehead. How had he never realised until it could be too late how fiercely he loved him? How he could not bear to lose him? He had spent so long thinking Peter was weak and needy when really, he had been bravely keeping a lid on all that agonising pain, only seeking help when it had become unbearable. He cursed himself for leaving him to suffer, for leaving him with a human woman who could never hope to understand him. For not offering his hand in guidance when Peter had so obviously been reaching for it. Resolved that if he survived this he would guide him and guard him with all his might. Loathed the fact that there was an 'if' in that thought.

It was another fifteen minutes before he woke. Hank took that time to check his IV lines, to screw the flask into place and ready the mask that would deliver the toxin. To strap his arms and legs down to the bed and wind another two thick straps around his thighs and waist.

"He's very frail," he had explained, though Erik didn't ask, "If he fights against the restraints, he could snap his spine without these"

At last Peter had blinked awake, tried to stretch and tensed against the straps. Erik saw panic shooting through his dark eyes, went immediately to soothe him.

"It's alright," he whispered tenderly, "You're going to be alright. Hank's going to give you something to breathe in. I'll stay here. I promise you're going to be alright, my boy"

He did not stay, and he did not believe his own promise. And things were very *very* far from alright.

Wanda walked up the driveway. Rang the doorbell. Waited. Hammered on the door, and waited some more. Gathered a slightly larger ball of energy than she really needed and backed off a few paces, flung it at the door and walked through the gaping crater she had left in the oak.

Peter breathed deeply. Felt lightheaded and slightly sick, and took another deep breath to clear his head. Then he realised that he was deeply, unexpectedly afraid of being tied down.

Then Erik was there. Standing over him with a look of grave disappointment on his face, the kind of harsh look that suited his hard features only too well. Folding his arms, looking at his son laying strapped to the bed, a cold sneer twisting one lip. He leaned down and touched Peter's face, grasped his chin in his hand – not a gentle touch, no love in it, but a grab as though forcing the boy to look at him, despite the fact that Peter's eyes were riveted on his

"Wanda was always such a good girl," he was saying. Disgust and scorn dripped almost visibly from the words, "I always loved her more you know. In fact, when your mother found out she was having twins, I nearly asked her to get rid of you. I knew you would be *such* a disappointment"

His mother, beautiful and joining his father, gazing down at him. He squirmed, felt this was how a bacterium under the lens of a microscope must feel

"I would have done it too" Magda laughed pitilessly, "Sometimes one twin kills the other in the womb. I wish Wanda had killed you, it would have been so much better"

She took his father's arm, stroked it lovingly

"We wouldn't have split up if you hadn't been born. You broke us up, you and your whining and crying and attention-seeking. We would still love each other now without you"

Peter fought against the restraints, his whole body jerking and spasming and straining against the straps. Beside him, Hank watched the EKG climb, saw his heart rate become so high that the machine emitted a high-pitched whine. Peter was whining too, a keening noise that dragged up from deep inside him, tears running freely over his face. He was babbling, hank barely caught a word of it. If Hank had had any faith, he would have prayed at that moment – instead he just hoped.

Wanda explored the empty halls of the house. Peered into bedrooms and climbed endless stairs and followed the call of her missing half.

"It's alright, darling" Erik was saying to Magda, dipping her in his arms as though he were the prince in some fairy-tale, "Just because this one's not right, it doesn't mean we can't try again"

Magda laughed, a girlish peal of laughter that echoed around the room, looked up at Erik and bit her underlip seductively.

"We should tidy up the loose ends though," she said, and they turned to look at Peter again. His mother's hands closed on his throat. He could smell her perfume, her beautiful dark eyes lit with malevolent delight as her fingers tightened around his windpipe, bending so that her hair tickled his face and whispering in his ear

"I wish I'd done this when you were born"

He thrashed and fought with all his strength. Observing, Hank grit his teeth and told himself there was no antidote and planned what he would say to Erik if his son died. Then Peter's limbs were a blur, vibrating so rapidly that the bed shook and began to move across the floor. The straps began to tear. He let out a strangled scream that rattled Hank's eardrums.

Wanda followed the cry of her other half, bolting up the stairs to the infirmary, another blast of energy and the door fell in. Hank could do nothing but stare, Peter broke the restraints, and then he was gone. Wanda saw nothing, advanced with her eyes glowing with hellfire, held one more ball of crackling red force between her palms and launched it at the canister beside the bed.

Phobic toxin spread in poisonous yellow clouds throughout the room. Hank clamped his breathing apparatus tightly to his face and screamed for Erik to come back in.

Peter was nowhere to be seen.

Wanda was screaming, clawing at her face and leaving jagged red marks with her nails, sinking to the floor and beginning to rip at her clothes, her legs, at any skin that she could expose. Scratching and tearing and striking at herself and making inarticulate sounds of panic. As Erik charged in, she spotted him and she howled like a trapped animal, sparks of energy beginning to fly around her. Erik somehow managed to pin her hands to her sides, to stop her from tearing herself bloody, fixing Hank with a horrifying look of fury

"Sedate her!" he yelled, "NOW!"


	5. Chapter 5

He was wet through, shivering. How was he wet? How was he not dead? He'd been strangled to death and yet here he was – standing fully clothed in a fountain. A little _Manneken Pis_ was frozen with delight in his marble face as he urinated on Peter's head. For a couple of minutes, he stared at the grinning little boy, let the stream of cold water splash over him. Spat water, felt dizzy, leaned over the side of the fountain and was extravagantly sick. Felt a lot better, splashed cold water on his face. Tried to work out where he was and why he was standing in a fountain.

Peter clambered out over the side and looked around, noticing only then the shooting sparks of energy that ran through his body. Took a moment to simply conduct a quick check, found the pain not gone but eased so much that moving felt free and easy again, his joints no longer feeling strained and grinding as though they were filled with crystals of broken glass. His head felt clear and uncluttered, mind racing with a thousand equally fascinating things, the world sharp and focussed. He looked back at the fountain, watched individual drops of water coalesce and flow down into each rivulet, join to form the larger stream, splash into the pool below in balletic slow-motion, each crystal clear and gorgeous to him. Thought of walking back to the big house before him and seemingly as soon as he had the idea, found himself stepping through a gaping hole in the front door. He'd never felt so good in his life, felt alive and real, and oh my god so *hungry*….. His stomach growled angrily at him, prompting him to explore further into the house. There had to be food around here somewhere. He craved something full of sugar and fat, thought he'd probably eat a live horse if one were to cross his path at that moment, as long as he could coat it in maple syrup first. Maybe deep fry it too.

His reveries were cut short by the sight of two men carrying a semi-conscious body between them, and he was at the top of the stairs before he could consider it. Hank screamed and almost dropped the girl's legs.

"Found him…" said Wanda, a big dopey smile spreading across her face, "He'll make them go"

"Shush my dear," Erik soothed, continued to back away into the opposite room, "it's alright, they're gone now"

Then it all crashed down, and Peter was doubled over retching before he had time to think. Nothing at all left to bring up, but acid scorched his throat and choked him. The smothering feeling, the cruel words, the taunts and laughter and nobody cared and nobody wanted him alive. The blue man (Hunk? Chunk? *Hank*…) gripping his shoulders, pushing him to sit down.

"What's happening to me?" Peter managed to slur out, before his eyes rolled back and he lost consciousness.

When Wanda came round, she was in a pleasant, old-fashioned looking bedroom. William Morris wallpaper, dark wood furniture, a smell of polish and lavender from somewhere. She tried to sit, found herself unable to, looked down to see that struts of metal from the bedframe had curled themselves vine-like around her body.

"She's awake!" she could hear someone calling, heard approaching footsteps. The little men were gone, no longer poking at her skin and peering at her with their eyes hidden behind dark glasses. No more experimenters, unless that was another of them coming now, unless they had bound her down so they could do more tests. Unless they had her now and would never let her go…. She pulled against the metal, whimpered, began to crackle with energy. Then there was a gorilla in the room. A blue gorilla.

"Wanda, it's alright" he was saying, holding his palms up in a gesture of peace as he approached her slowly, "You're safe. You've breathed in a very toxic chemical, but you're working through it now. You're going to be fine"

She didn't believe him, continued to fight, a halo of red building up around her and obscuring the room in a scarlet haze. She would kill him – him and the little men if they came near her again. Suddenly, as though pushed by a mighty force, the blue gorilla stumbled against the wall and there were hands holding hers.

Wanda looked up, saw her brother. There were wires dangling from sticky pads attached to his chest, blood seeping from around a large needle that trailed a tube behind it, poked into the back of his hand. They had him too. Wanda whimpered again, knew that neither of them would ever get out alive, knew that they would test them until both of them broke and they would dispose of their bodies, and their mother would never know what had become of them. But why Peter? He couldn't throw balls of energy, he couldn't summon auras of crackling red or blow things up. He was just her brother – just her poor, sick, brother. Not that he looked particularly sick. She frowned, tried to calm her panic and look at him properly, dark eyes bright with an energy she had not seen there for so long. Still pale and emaciated and delicate but purposeful and strong in his movements. He looked… _better_ somehow. More alive.

"Trust him, Vanda" he was saying to her. Reaching to run his fingers through her hair, soothing her, "It's the truth, you're going to be fine. He's going to help you"

The gorilla had regained his footing, laid a hand gently on Peters shoulder. With a movement too fast for any of them to see, Peter had whipped round and grabbed the hand. Before he knew what was happening, Hank was face-down on the floor with his hand pulled up between his shoulderblades, another inch and his arm would break. Peter's fingers felt like iron digging into his wrist. Then the grip loosened, and he allowed him up.

"Sorry, Dr McCoy," he said, offering a hand to help him, "I'm… a little twitchy"

"A little?!" Hank asked incredulously, rubbed his bruised wrist, "Remind me never to sneak up on you again. Go back to bed, as soon as she can walk I'll bring Wanda through, go on"

"No way," he protested, and his hand was in Wanda's again, how had he even got back to her side? She didn't see him move, "I'm staying with her."

Hank sighed, thought about trying to move him, decided against it. He needed both his arms.

"You both need to rest" the doctor said gently, "I can give you something, if you want"

"We're fine," Peter told him firmly. Did not look up from his sister's face, gently stroking her forehead, settled himself on the edge of the bed. "I've never felt better. Just help her"

Wanda felt the cool fingertips over her face, soothing her the way he had done since they were very young. Only Peter could ever have reached her like that. She smiled weakly, believed him when he said she was safe. Despite the electric terror that still made her tremble, she believed him and lay still.

"Very well. Stay with her – I'll be next door," Hank was saying, "Your father will be back soon too"

"Where is her?" Wanda asked. Her voice sounded odd and faint to her

"Calling your mother." Hank replied, "She's probably scared to death"

He left them. Arranging himself around the tangle of metal that held her down, Peter snuggled as close as he could to his sister, continued to soothe and laid his head on her chest. He could hear her heart pounding too quickly, her breath coming short and scared.

"She's going to be angry with me, Pietro," Wanda whispered.

Peter did not answer. Kept quiet, though he felt that the last person he wanted anywhere near him was the woman who had just tried to strangle him.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N : Good grief! What a lot of wonderful reviews! Thank you all so very much, I'm glad people are enjoying this. And Petra? I really don't know how long this is going to be, but I've another few chapters in me at least.**

Hank had never seen Erik look so shaken. Not when they had gone to battle together, not even when his oldest and closest friend had laid crippled in his arms on a beach in Cuba, tension pulling at his eyes and adding years to him. He sat. Said nothing for a long time. Then asked

"Where are they?"

"In the room across there," Hank pointed, approached carefully. Took a seat with Erik, "Wanda's still hallucinating, from what I can tell she thinks she's been captured by some sort of scientists, and they're conducting experiments on her"

"Who is to say she's wrong?" Erik said bitterly. Paused. "And Peter?"

"He's with her. I think he only got a controlled dose of the toxin, his mind seems to have settled down now, though he's so worried about his sister it's hard to tell. He won't stay resting, I did try, but unless I anaesthetise him again there's no getting him away from her"

Erik stared at him. A hard, penetrating stare that made Hank feel as though his fur would smoke under its ferocity. At last, he dropped his eyes, ran both hands through his hair, slumped back in his chair.

"Did it work?" he asked at last

"I think so. He won't speak to me, he's too busy with Wanda right now, but he seems to be a lot stronger for the treatment. Perhaps when his sister is a little better he'll let me explore it more, but he seems to be very… fast"

"He's always been fast" Erik snapped

"No, Erik.." Hank said carefully, " _Very_ fast. Unnaturally so. I think his mutation has finally expressed itself fully, and he appears to have some sort of ability to move at super-human speeds. It would make sense, given his processing was so rapid and his metabolism running so hot. I think you've fathered a speedster"

Erik nodded. Could not process the news right now. Not after Magda had screamed and cried at him over the 'phone, hearing his baby daughter wailing in the background, called him every name under the sun and then some she had come up with on the spot. Announced that she was getting in the car and coming before she slammed the receiver down.

"I'll go to them" he muttered. Rose from his chair. Hank thought about following, but did not. This was not something that he would be able to help with. The very few words he'd caught whilst Peter had been raving had been mostly to do with his parents, and he dreaded what might have been going through the poor boy's head. What horrors the toxin might have made real.

Wanda slept. Beside her, curled awkwardly around the twisted bed frame, Peter lay with his arms flung around her, resting his head on her shoulder. Eyes flicking to Erik as soon as he walked in. Instantly he curled further into his sister's body, the look of anticipation in his eyes like a cornered animal. Erik thought of children his age forced into train carriages and carried away from their parents to their deaths. He approached slowly, did not try to come to close or touch either of them. Cornered animals had a tendency to bite.

"How is she?" he asked quietly. The boy did not take his eyes off him.

"Sleeping. I think she's alright. She's stopped crying anyway"

"Peter… I need to explain –"

"It's alright," he interrupted. Finally dropped his eyes to regard his sister's sleeping face, "I know, y'know? She's special. I get why you'd love her and not care about me, it's okay. Just please don't hurt me?"

What are you talking about?!"

"I'll go away, I swear, you'll never have to see me again! I'll go somewhere far away, just please _please_ don't hurt me"

His voice was shaking now, but even through that Erik did not see weakness or begging, but a determination to act to save his own life if he had to. A strength that he had overlooked in him his entire life up to now. He was trembling, twitches running through him, ready to bolt at a moment's notice but unable to abandon Wanda.

"That… treatment, Peter… please understand, we were trying to help you! I'm sorry you had to go through it, and I'm sorry I didn't stay, but –"

"What the hell do you mean, you didn't stay?! You were there the whole time Dad. Believe me I wouldn't forget a thing like that! And I get it now, but you don't have to kill me. I know I'm a disappointment, I know you wish I hadn't been born, THAT isn't much of a surprise to me, but…."

He couldn't go on. Choked again as if those hands were still around his throat. Hank told him there were no bruises or swelling, but he still felt it and smelled his Mother's perfume even as he remembered it, heard that cold whisper in his ear. Squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself not to move as he heard Erik come closer, felt a strong hand on his shoulder, prepared himself for death. Was glad that Wanda was there with him at that final moment.

"I wasn't there" Erik told him. His voice sounded thick, and Peter dared a glance up, shocked to see that he was weeping, "And I would never harm you. I've never been a good father, I know that, but if I had known how sick you were getting then I would have done something much much sooner. Please…. Please, my son, how could you think I don't love you? That I would wish you dead?! I didn't drag you halfway across the country and let Hank try that madness for you to think I didn't care"

He shook like a leaf under Erik's hand, those wounded animal eyes staring up at him. He was breathing too quickly, shrinking from the touch and into Wanda's body, crushing himself against her as though he were drowning and she was his life-raft. At last he couldn't stand it any longer, and tried to move, shocked when despite thinking he could easily escape the room before anyone could blink, he found himself pinned to the wall with his father's hands around his upper arms, fighting futilely. Erik leaned into him with all his might, fighting back against the astonishing strength in him now.

"Peter, stop it! Calm down and breathe properly, please!" his father sobbed, "Please, I know you're frightened, I know you want to run but STOP, you're not strong enough!"

Before he could lose his grip, before he would have had to release the thrashing body, there was a flash of red and Peter's head struck violently back against the wall. A second before his eyes closed, and he sunk limp against Erik's body. He looked over at his daughter, who had opened her eyes and was gazing at him with a distant look he didn't like at all.

"Will you take him away?" she asked, "Please Father? Take him somewhere they can't get to him."

Then she too, was unconscious again.

He freed her from the bedframe when she regained consciousness. Led her by the hand to the infirmary where he had laid Peter back down – no straps this time. Hank had inserted another drip in his other hand, dressed the wound where he had ripped the other loose. Piled blankets on the bed to keep him warm. She went to him, seeming dazed and dislocated. Stood for a long while with her palm resting in her twin's chest, feeling his breath, before at last she had turned that wobbly gaze on Hank and asked

"You're not one of them, are you? The little men... they're not working with you?"

"Wanda, I know that what you experienced felt very real, but please understand, you had a violent hallucinatory reaction to a toxin. Your brother too. With time, those thoughts will pass away" Hank looked at her blank eyes, sighed, then went on "No, I'm not. They've gone away"

Wanda nodded, satisfied. Sat down in the chair that Erik fetched for her. Sat staring at her hands, stock-still and virtually catatonic, until she had heard her mother calling from somewhere else in the Mansion in a frantic voice. Restrained from rising by Erik's hand on her shoulder.

"I'll talk to her" he said simply. "Stay with your brother. Look after him"


	7. Chapter 7

Magda flew at him, snarling and red-eyed and furious. Her nails ripped across his face before he had time to block her, finally managing only after several minutes to grasp her wrists, but she still struggled, even tried to kick at him.

"Where are they?" she demanded, "Where are my babies, Erik? What have you done to them?!"

"Nothing that you were prepared to do!" he hissed back at her, gripped her wrists too tightly. He knew he was hurting her, "Why didn't you tell me how sick he was, Magda? He could have died, do you understand that?!"

"So you've handed him over to your freak friends? Great move!"

"He could have died!" He yelled again, shook her hard, "You, you pathetic creature almost killed him!"

"Wanda!" she called, her eyes flicking to where her daughter was descending the stairs, "Wanda, sweetheart, come here, come on! Where's your brother?"

Erik released her, let her scoop his daughter up and squeeze her. Bristled with anger but did not interfere, dabbed the blood from his face with one hand.

"Where's Lorna?" Wanda asked dreamily

"In the car, I didn't want her near this… this *monster*! Oh but baby you're safe! Come on, we'll go home as soon as we find Peter"

There was a shattering sound from upstairs, a yell that didn't sound like her son. Something blue and shaped like a man coming flying out of a room upstairs and closing the door swiftly behind him.

"Mrs Lensherr?" he asked, seeming out of breath

"Ms Maximoff" Magda corrected him, flashing steely eyes, "Give me my son"

"That's… not going to be possible"

Dragging Wanda by the elbow, storming up the stairs towards the creature, screaming at him

"What have you done to my son?! If you've hurt him I swear to god you'll die for it!"

"Please!" Hank pressed himself against the infirmary door, blocked her way, "Don't go in! Peter's going to be alright, but really it's for the best that you don't go into that room with him"

"Hank?!" a woman's voice called up the stairs, "What the hell's going on? What happened to the door?!"

"How many of you *are* there in here?" Magda snarled at the woman who ran up to them, scaly blue skin and shockingly red hair, clearly not human, "Get away from me, all of you – I'll call the police! There should be a law against your kind!"

"There almost is"

It was a man's voice, cultured and calm. Magda looked down into the hallway, saw a man a little younger than Erik with long darkish hair, pushed in a wheelchair by a younger man. As she met his eyes, she dropped her grip on Hank's shirt front, turned and calmly walked down the stairs. Sat on the bottom step and simply looked at him.

"Hello, old friend," Charles said, "Would you like to explain what's going on in my house?"

"I can't hold her like this forever, you know" Charles said, watching as Raven led Magda to a chair and sat her down. She moved at her bidding, pliable as a rag doll and staring straight ahead. "Sooner or later, you're going to have to work this out like adults"

"I would be more than happy to do so as soon as she begins behaving like one" Erik said coolly, winced as Hank pulled another stitch through the bleeding gash in his cheek. They had removed themselves to the study, leaving Wanda with her terrified brother curled in her arms, shushing him and assuring him that she wouldn't let him go. Satisfied that the twins could look after one another for a while, they had fetched the little toddler from the car, sent her down to the kitchen with Alex, keeping her out of the way of whatever disaster was unfolding in the Mansion.

"Erik," Charles began patiently. Took a deep breath, "I assume you had a very good reason to do whatever has been done to those two children, but –"

"It was me, Charles" Hank said. Tied off a final stitch, "Erik brought the boy here, he's sick – I was trying to get his mutation to come on fully and I think it worked. The girl turned up by herself and…. Well, that's when it all went a little wrong"

"Why is he so afraid of us?" Erik asked, "Myself and his Mother would never hurt either of them, but he seems terrified"

"Maybe because you brought them here and put them through hell?" Raven suggested. Perched on the edge of Charles' desk, examining her nails, looking up to give Erik a flinty glare.

"I don't know the full nature of it, but I think Peter has the idea that Ms Maximoff means him harm. But I can't tell" Hank shrugged helplessly, "He can't tell me, it's too frightening"

"Well then…." Charles said, smiled grimly, "I suppose I will just have to look. Raven would you be so good as to take me up to the infirmary? Let's go and have a peek at whatever has the lad so scared. Erik, if your wife comes to then you'll just have to handle her by yourself"

"She's not my wife"

"You'll still have to handle her" the telepath said, "I'm getting quite tired of cleaning up your messes, you know"

Wanda had managed to soothe Peter a little. Propped herself against the pillow, holding her twin's body to her, humming some gentle melody and running her fingers softly through his hair. Distracted and not quite on this plane of reality, she hadn't even noticed that what he had been through in the past 24 hours had caused the white-blonde to turn an ashy shade of silver, only stroked and petted and kept him safe with her. Glanced up only a little, seeming unsurprised to see the pair who entered, felt Peter tense against her. The man in the wheelchair seemed kind, holding out a hand to the boy.

"Hello Peter. I'm Professor Charles Xavier. Hank works for me – this is my house you're in"

"Oh.." said Wanda softly, "Sorry about your door…"

"We'll talk about it later," he said kindly, "For now, I think I can help your brother. You can stay if you want. Peter I promise you this won't hurt, though it might feel a little strange"

Reluctantly, Peter sat a little further up and allowed the man to place a finger on each temple. Almost immediately, Charles flinched away, grunted in pain, muttered 'good grief…' to himself. The boy's mind was whirring like nothing he'd ever experienced. He would have to go carefully, something so powerful could be too much even for him. He took Peter's head in his hands again, took a deep shuddering breath, began to try to unravel the terror that had gripped him. By the time he had found what he was looking for, there were tears on his face.

"You poor, poor child…." He whispered. Reached again for Peter's face but this time only stroked his hollow cheek gently, "I'm so sorry"

Then he closed his eyes, re-established the connection, and worked with the skill of a surgeon to gently cut away at the memory of the past day. Severed the flimsy bonds, glad that the memories had not yet settled into the grooves of his mind, levered out the pain and the terror and sat back at last, sweating and grey. Peter looked at him briefly, smiled a little, then sank back against his sister with a soft sigh and went back to sleep.

"You look after him, Wanda," Charles panted. "Let us know when he wakes up"

Returning the study, Charles looked up at his friend pacing the floor, said very quietly

"Erik, would you come here please?"

When he approached, Charles beckoned him to lean down, as though he were going to whisper in his ear. Then socked him hard in the jaw with all his strength, bursting open the stitches and sending Erik sprawling back onto the carpet.

"He's only a child!" he yelled, "How could you have done that to him?"

"Charles! I –"

"I don't want to hear your excuses. I'm tired of them. He'll forget what's kept him so afraid now, but don't think for a moment that I took away the memories of how you've treated him all his life. *That* you will have to fix on your own"

Erik felt at his jaw, sure there were a couple of teeth loosened by the blow. Levered himself up into a chair with as much dignity as he could muster

"What are you talking about?"

"Fears come from somewhere, Erik," Charles told him, voice cold, "And you put the seeds of them there. I'd say you have an awful lot of work to do before your son will understand that you don't see him as a burden. That is nothing to do with the toxin"

Seated across from them, Magda blinked hard a few times, looked around her in confusion. Set eyes on her former lover and the younger man who glared at him as though he would kill him.

"You can go see your son now, Ms Maximoff" Charles said quietly. "Erik. Get out of my house"

She didn't move for a moment, then stood stiffly and came over to where Charles sat, hesitated then bent and planted a little kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you" she said softly. The Professor frowned at her, confused, "For showing me something very important"

"And what's that?"

"That my children's father is a cruel, terrible man simply because he *is*" she said, stung Erik with a look, "Not because he's a Mutant. You people here…. You're good people"

At that Charles smiled, reached to take her hand and shake it

"Never be afraid of us, please. We don't mean any harm. Most of us"

"Erik," she said, "I suggest you do what this man says and get out. If you ever want to see your children again, then you have a great deal of grovelling to do first"

He obeyed.


	8. Chapter 8

Lorna had jam in her hair somehow. Magda didn't care, let her fling herself onto her brother and smothered all three of her children in a hug. Sniffed back tears of happiness, caressed her son's head and planted a kiss on his forehead.

"He should be able to go home very soon," the blue creature – whom she now knew was a doctor, and actually very kind despite his ferocious looks, "And things should be much easier on you from now on"

"Is he… unusual, like Wanda?" she asked, turning her affection on her daughter, who gazed at her silently but returned her mother's hug

"Not in the same way, but yes. We'll always be here if you need any advice, gifted children can take a little time to settle properly"

She nodded. Thought of the toaster exploding in a shower of red sparks, was simply glad to have her children back safely.

"Thank you so much, Dr McCoy" she smiled, "I don't know how I'll ever repay you"

"I wouldn't be so quick to thank me," he said seriously, "Wanda is very shaken up by all this. The Professor tried to help her too, but her mind is too powerful. He wasn't able to remove the trauma. It might be some time before she's back to normal"

Magda looked at her beautiful redheaded daughter, gazing off into the distance with glassy eyes and seeming to hardly feel her little sister tugging at her to be held. Scooped Lorna up without looking, began to rock and hum again.

"It'll be okay Mom," Peter told her, reached and squeezed her hand, "I can help out"

"Do we need to do anything special? Anything that will help them?"

"Definitely," Peter cut in before Hank could reply, "It's really *really* important for Mutants to get tons of ice cream. We like, totally need it"

Magda laughed, ruffled a hand through his hair (it would take some getting used to… but the silver quite suited him in an odd way)

"Nice try. We can get some on the way home" she said, "Glad you're feeling up to it"

"Cherry Garcia…."

Wanda muttered faintly. Her mother pulled her in for a kiss on the cheek, smiled though it hurt to see that odd distance in her daughter's eyes. Hoped and prayed that her lively little girl would be back some day. She looked so blank, now and again peering around as though she could see something invisible to the rest of them, and shrank down a little in her seat.

"A good therapist might be an idea," Hank said, laid a hand on Magda's arm. She nodded, pulled herself together. "As for Peter, he should be fine without anything special. Just keep an eye on him, he might get a little clumsy. Then again he's almost a teenager, you might not even notice a difference"

She stayed a couple of days. Watched the blonde boy who had somehow got jam in her daughter's hair work with a skinny redheaded kid to fix the front door of the Mansion. Grew more comfortable with the blue-skinned woman, kept watch over her children and let Lorna cuddle up to Hank. The girl seemed to instinctually like him, treating him like a huge teddy-bear and frequently taking her afternoon nap cuddled into his fur. Talked with the Professor, did not see her children's father leave. Did not care.

"I'll call him," she told Charles, "But not yet. I need an apology first"

"You might wait a very long time for that you know. Erik can be incredibly stubborn"

"Oh believe me, I know. But the kids – especially the twins – they shouldn't be deprived of their father. He's an ass, but he's their Dad. One day they'll need him"

Charles smiled fondly at her in admiration

"You're an incredible woman, Magda," he told her, "Those children are very lucky. I trust that when the time comes to resolve things, you will do so in a way that will do them credit"

She smiled in return, then looked sadly down at her hands, wrung them for a minute or two, before she'd said

"I'm afraid I've made them think it's wrong to be a Mutant" she admitted, "I didn't realise – I thought they were all like Erik. Even when Wanda's gifts started coming on, I thought one day she would be like her father. I didn't know you could be so kind"

"Humans can be just as bad. Mutants are no better than you, just different. But that isn't how Erik sees it of course. I understand your prejudice – but I'm glad you've moved beyond it"

"How do I ever make it up to them?" she asked, "All that time, they must have heard me say such awful things…."

"Love them," Charles said softly, reached for her hand and squeezed it hard, "Be the wonderful mother you can be, and keep them safe. In time, they will understand – when they're older perhaps"

Magda nodded. Squeezed the hand he held back tightly.

"I hope you're right Professor"

"Almost always" he said, "Now, go see your children. Hank says you can leave in the morning if you're ready to, though of course you're more than welcome to stay here."

"No. We'll go home… but, I wanted to ask. When they're a little older and ready to move schools, do you think that perhaps they could come here and study with you? I just... I think it would be better for them, being around their own kind"

"They'll always need you Magda. You're their mother, being genetically a little different doesn't change that. But yes, of course. When the time comes, they will be very welcome here"

"Thank you," she swallowed hard, gave him a watery smile, "Thank you all so much."

"Magda… I know this will be hard for you. But we'll be here. We can help each other. And when you've had time to think and to come to terms, I hope you'll give Erik a chance"

"You've given him a lot of chances, haven't you?"

"Probably too many," Charles admitted, "But he can be a good man. I hope you can let him try again one day"

She nodded again. Rose to leave

"A good father is all I need him to be" she said.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N : Final part... well this one's been a rough ride. Thank you all for reading and reviewing, I hope you've enjoyed it and that this has been what you wanted it to. My prompt box is now empty again, so if you feel inclined feel free to send me any ideas, and I'll do my best. Enjoy!**

It was astounding how much Lorna had grown in a year. Brown pigtails bounced behind her as she bounded up the driveway, spotting her favourite giant teddy pushing the Professor's chair and launching herself at him.

"Lorna!" Magda laughed, "Don't! He's trying to walk, sweetheart!"

"It's alright" Hank laughed, scooped the girl up. She squealed delightedly. Magda took the chair, delighted to see them both again and to welcome them into her home. She'd had the front step converted into a little ramp for that very reason – a small kindness that Charles had noticed and been grateful for.

The twins were sat on the sofa, heads together as Wanda carefully coloured in a large, lovely butterfly. Slender fingers working peacock hues into the wings, a faint smile on her face. Her brother sat close by her, one hand tucked under her arm, watching the picture develop, looking up when he had heard voices and grinning to see the Professor and Hank follow his mother in. Giving Wanda a squeeze before extracting himself from her a little.

"Look at you!" Hank said wonderingly, looked the boy up and down, "You look so well! How are you doing these days?"

"Good, really good actually," he grinned, "A bit restless, but y'know. Nothing I can't handle"

"And you, Wanda?" the Professor asked gently. The girl didn't look up from her picture.

"She has her good days and bad days," Peter said, a little sadly, "She likes colouring – it keeps her attention. Sometimes she can be a little freaky when she's upset. I think it helps having me around more though – I gave up track, so I can stay home all weekend with her"

Charles regarded the boy, the devotion to his sister it must have taken to get through the past year, and the astounding strength he must have to bear sitting still for so long with her. He spoke frequently with Magda, and knew that Peter's gift had been developing rapidly, growing stronger and faster all the time, and it was difficult for him to concentrate on things, but his sister could get him to do whatever she needed. It was heartening to see him looking so good, taller still now that he was almost twelve, that odd silver hair grown long and feathery, still slight but now obviously managing to get enough to eat. The change was all to the better, and looking at him now Charles had no doubt he would grow into a fine-looking man one day.

"We were hoping the two of you would come for a walk with us?" the Professor asked, "We've got some important things to talk about with you"

Peter glanced at his mother, who nodded slightly.

"Sure. Maybe just me though…. Wanda's kind of out of it today." He nudged his sister, who looked up at him briefly, seeming unaware that there was anybody else in the room, then returned to her butterfly.

They had found a quiet park. Walked for a little while in silence, before Peter had said

"So we're finishing school in July. Well I am – Wanda's been out of class, but she's smart, she'll catch up when she gets better. Are you here to talk about taking us to the Academy"

"Well… that was always the plan" the Professor said, "But obviously it's your choice. It is a boarding school, you'd be leaving your mother and Lorna, and you are after all only twelve"

As soon as he'd said it, he felt a little foolish. The boy didn't act like a pre-teen at all, so much responsibility having settled on his shoulders that he seemed to have grown up a great deal in the last twelve months. Peter thought for a while, then nodded.

"If Wanda's going, I am too" he said firmly, "She needs me. We need each other. The shrink's helping her a lot but she doesn't really calm down for anyone else, when she gets bad"

"Then we can arrange things with your mother," Charles smiled, "I think you'll both be very happy there"

He wondered if Wanda was really happy anywhere. Knew that she still woke up in the night sometimes screaming and flailing out at the little men who came to poke her with needles and probes, that her mother would do her best to help but that only her twin could really talk her down. They walked on for a while, kept a peaceful quiet, until Peter had broken the silence.

"Did you make it up with my Dad?" he asked, "Mom says you were pretty mad with him after what happened"

Looking to Hank for guidance, Charles hesitated, finally saying

"We haven't spoken, I'm afraid. But not speaking for a year is actually not all that uncommon for the two of us. We lead very different lives"

"Yeah, I can see that" Peter was quiet a long while, walking along with his hands shoved into his pockets. "Mom still won't really speak to him either. But he takes us every other weekend. He's… different now"

"In what way?"

"He talks about stuff," the boy said. Felt around in his pocket and returned with a bar of candy, "I guess he's nicer to us. To me anyway – he was always nice to Wanda and Lorna. He's less of a jerk most of the time, now I'm older"

"That's good to know"

"I s'pose he's more like the Dad I always wanted, y'know? When I was little, I used to think he didn't like me so much, that he thought I was kind of a pain but I came with Wanda so he had to put up with me. Now… I don't know, it's weird" he paused a while, "I'm getting around to realising that he really loves me"

Charles smiled, relieved. He'd only had second-hand reports of how the twins were getting along with their father, but reading between the lines of what Magda told him he could tell that having his endlessly forgiving, huge-hearted son around was having a good effect on Erik. He wondered how someone so stubborn and chilly had managed to sire a boy so affectionate, marvelled at how Peter had pulled himself through the feelings of inadequacy and won the love of such a cold man as Erik. He was glad that he had done. Perhaps in time he could even teach him to see the world in a little more colour. He thought of Wanda's peacock butterfly, how in their own ways the twins both brought something beautiful into his old friend's life. Perhaps it was time to call him, after all.

"When we come to the school, can Dad come see us there?" the boy asked

"Of course," Charles replied sincerely, "Any time he wants to"

"He's a good Dad, y'know" Peter told him, "Even if he's not a very nice guy"

Charles smiled, looked up at the boy walking beside him. Marvelled at how it took this wide-eyed boy to show him the goodness in his friend, which he had always known was there but which was concealed with such brittle, angry feelings that it was often hard to see.

"It'd be good if he got on with Mom," Peter went on, "I hope he does, one day. But for now it's okay that he just sees us. I'm glad he's still around for me after everything"

"I'm sure in time that can happen" Charles told him, "Now, come on – let's head back. We can arrange for you and your sister to start at the Academy this September"

Approaching the house, Peter hung back a little at the sight of a familiar black car parked outside. Almost said something, but was cut short by the door opening and his father stepping out into the driveway to meet them. He tried not to, but could not restrain himself from bounding ahead and throwing himself into a hug, which Charles was delighted to see Erik return with genuine affection.

"Don't throw yourself at me like that!" he scowled, but his voice was not angry, "you're getting a lot heavier these days you know!"

"What are you doing here?" the boy asked, "Does Mom know?"

"Of course she does," Erik nodded to Charles and Hank, opened the door for them all to go inside, "She called me over. I hear you and Wanda will be going away to school soon. That should be a family decision, don't you think? Now come in, your Mother's making lunch"

"For all of us?"

"For all of us," Erik confirmed. "And no fighting, we promise"

He caught Charles' eye and exchanged a small smile with him. Closed the front door behind them all, and followed his son into the happy noise of the kitchen.


End file.
